Are You Sure You Want to Do This?
by atlaswhite
Summary: ATWQ. A series of short stories and wrong questions in the lives of Lemony Snicket and his associates in the small and dying town of Stain'd-by-the-Sea. It might be better if you find a collection of happy stories about fuzzy kittens who ask the right questions to read instead. Various characters and pairings.
1. Moxie&Lemony - Where Did He Come From?

_Lemony Snicket and Moxie Mallahan - Where Did He Come From?_

Lemony sighed, his eyes downcast. Moxie knew he had been looking again, at her arm in its bandages. It was hard seeing him like that, all downtrodden and defeated as if he had already lost the war.

Of course, he hadn't. _They_ hadn't. Whatever Hangfire had been planning at the Colophon Clinic, they had shut him down. Sure they hadn't caught the man himself, but as far as Moxie was concerned, that would happen too, in time.

"What's eating you, Snicket?" Moxie asked, sitting down across from him at his usual table at the library.

He sighed again, his chin rested on folded arms rested on his usual table at the library. "It's nothing. I just don't feel well."

With his head lowered like that, it was impossible to see his eyes past the protection of his hat. He liked that it kept his eyes concealed, when he was feeling down like this or when he was feeling secretive or private. Moxie disliked it for just that same reason.

"Now you and I both know that's not true," Moxie said, taking his hat by the brim and pulling it off his head. His hair was a bit messy underneath. "Tell me. What's up? What's bothering you? It's off the record, I promise."

He looked at her arm. This time, he didn't bother pretending he'd just happened to notice it. "Does it still hurt?"

"That's not what's bothering you," Moxie said instead of answering.

"No, but it's part of it," Lemony answered, and sighed again. There was a pause, and then finally, he asked, "Moxie, am I really doing anyone any good here?"

"Don't be silly, of course you are," Moxie replied. She gestured outward with her healthy arm and went on, "Just think of all the kids who aren't going to be chained up at the Colophon Clinic with those big fish tanks. And all the other people you've helped, too. I'm not really sure what you're doing, not being a detective and all, but whatever it is, you're doing a good job of it."

Lemony looked up at her and gave a little smile. It was the first one Moxie had seen on him since their big showdown at the clinic, and she was glad to see her friend in any state but the one he'd been in. Even a small smile was better than none at all, she figured.

It only stayed for a few moments, though, and then it left to go do something else and let a small frown take its place. With the frown now sitting gloomily on his face, Lemony asked Moxie another tricky question. "What about you, though? I couldn't protect you."

"Now, Snicket, you know I don't need protecting." Moxie replied, a bit haughtily, a word which here means that her hands were on her hips and her chin was tilted up. She raised one of her hands to wave Lemony's hat at him. "I fight my own battles, and I get hurt on my own, too. What matters is that you were there when I _did_ need you."

"I guess so," he sighed anyway, which frustrated Moxie.

"Now you see here, Snicket," Moxie said, with great authority. "If that doesn't help you, why don't you think about all the people you've helped one by one? You found Cleo Knight, didn't you? And you saved Dame Sally Murphy from drowning, and I heard about that kid you got out of town- the butcher's kid? And I heard about how you helped Jackie down at the garage, and the miner's daughter, too. And I'll bet there are others still! You just can't _stop_ helping people, can you, Snicket? Is that what you do for a living or are you just really big-hearted?"

Lemony looked at her in a way that was difficult to read, even for Stain'd-by-the-Sea's resident journalist. He looked like something had hurt him, but he was covering it up and pretending nothing had happened. Maybe that was why he was so upset. Maybe it didn't really have anything to do with her arm, or maybe her arm just reminded him of whatever was upsetting him. Was there someone else he hadn't been able to protect?

"It's what I do," he said, his words measured.

"How come?" Moxie asked, her eyes fixed on his face, trying to figure out what he could possibly be hiding.

Lemony met her gaze and held it. "It's what I was meant to do- ever since I was born, really."

They were silent for several long moments. Lemony's eyes were even more unfathomable than the rest of him. He was only twelve years old, only a few months younger than she was, but he looked so much older right then, and it made a chill run through her that she was completely at a loss to explain.

"Wow," Moxie said at last, her voice much quieter than she'd intended. "That's really noble, Snicket."

"I hope so," Lemony replied, lowering his gaze to the table.

When he turned his eyes away from her, Moxie suddenly felt like it was a little easier to breathe. Such intensity lurked in her friend, like nothing a twelve-year-old ever ought to be able to muster. No wonder she'd felt a chill.

Still, what _was_ that? Did it have something to do with his "unusual education"? Did it have something to do with the fact that he was all alone out here? Where did he even come from? Moxie hated thinking of all these questions when she realized she didn't have any of the answers. She didn't want to think that perhaps she didn't really know him as well as she'd thought.

"Well, you can't be everywhere all at once," Moxie said finally. "Focus on the people you have helped, and the people who still do need your help. You'll see, you do plenty of good around here. Stain'd-by-the-Sea is lucky to have you here, Snicket."

The small smile came back, lifting the corners of Lemony's mouth just a little. His eyes were still just as unreadable, but at least they looked less cloudy and doubtful than they had a moment ago. "Thank you, Moxie. Stain'd-by-the-Sea is very lucky to have you, too."

She smiled back at him, all bright and cheerful, but there was doubt in Moxie's heart that she tried hard to cover up. She playfully brought his hat back down onto his head, just forcefully enough to pull it over his eyes.

Lemony laughed quietly and pulled it back off, taking a moment to smooth his hair back with his hand before he put the hat on once more and arranged it delicately. Moxie could tell that there was still something amiss with him, but she didn't address it.

It wasn't that she didn't trust him; she did, implicitly. But she knew that he was keeping secrets, and she realized now that she didn't know him nearly as well as she'd thought she did. Everything before his time in Stain'd-by-the-Sea was a complete blank to her, as if the day he'd arrived, unknown and unannounced, unwanted by some and unprecedented overall, had been the first day Lemony Snicket had even existed.

Of course she knew he'd been born somewhere, he'd spent the first twelve years of his life somewhere and he'd gotten his education somewhere and he probably had friends and he possibly had a family somewhere. But those things were in another world, outside of Stain'd-by-the-Sea, and well away from the world that Moxie knew.

In the world that Moxie knew, he was a puzzle that nobody could solve, with no past and an unfathomable future. In a book, that might have been dazzling and romantic, but in reality, it was frustrating, and a little unsettling. Where would he go when he was done here? She couldn't bring herself to ask.

"You feel any better, Snicket?" She asked instead.

"For now," Lemony answered simply, rising from his chair.

He began to gather up his books to return them to their shelves, and Moxie came over to help him. He gave her a look as she winced, but his concern only made her want to succeed more. She pointedly gathered up more of the books than he had, holding them in both her arms.

"Moxie, are you sure you should get all those?" Lemony asked concernedly. "I don't mind carrying them."

"I've got it," Moxie said, fighting back the pain. "I'm not an invalid, you know. I can't let my arm get weak from disuse."

He didn't protest further, but he bit his lip as if he were trying to keep himself from arguing. They put away the books and met up again at the library's front doors. There they stood for a moment, looking at one another with uncertainty.

"It's fine," Moxie said. "It's healing right up, and soon there will only be a scar left. You worry too much, you know?"

Lemony sighed. "I know, but sometimes I can't help it. It's my fault that happened."

"I told you, I fight my own battles. She was just good with the knife, that's all. It's not gonna heal any faster if you keep fretting over it." Moxie opened one of the doors and stepped outside. She turned to see Lemony doing the same on the other side, emerging next to her.

"I suppose not," he said, looking distractedly out over the crispy, brown lawn. The sun was setting, and all the world was dyed a mild orange. "It's a nice sunset, isn't it?"

Moxie glanced at him incredulously, then looked out over the lawn as well. "Yeah," she said, "it really is."

They stood and watched it for a few moments, and then, thoughtfully, Moxie spoke up again. "Stop asking me if my arm hurts."

Lemony looked at her, a bit startled. "What?"

"You heard me, stop asking me if my arm hurts." Moxie repeated firmly. "It's bothersome. You've got other things to focus on, like Hangfire and all that." _And whatever secrets you're keeping_, she thought, and suddenly found herself fighting to push down a sick feeling that threatened to rise and turn into resentment.

"Oh, okay," Lemony said, uncharacteristically softly. "Okay, I'll try not to bring it up anymore."

It was clear his mind was not on the sunset, or her arm, either. It was hard to say what he could be thinking of. Whatever had happened to make him upset, she figured. She wished she could know what it was. As a journalist, it bothered her to no end, seeing a big mystery, a story like that, and not having any of the facts. As a friend, it frustrated her terribly, realizing that she didn't know much at all about a person she cared about.

Perhaps that was what it meant to be a friend, an associate, of Lemony Snicket? Perhaps she would just have to put up with his mysteries and his secrets. The idea still left a bitter taste in her mouth. She walked down the steps and across the dead lawn, which took him out of his reverie long enough to follow after, down the street and off toward Hungry's, where they would find their other associates waiting, all their secrets open before him.


	2. Lemony - When Will You Be Satisfied?

_A/N: Some spoilers for "Shouldn't You Be In School?"._

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><p><em>Lemony Snicket - When Will You Be Satisfied? <em>

Lemony had never known what it was like to be attacked like this before. It was savage, violent and brutal. It was cruel and inhumane, and that made the hazy thought float through his addled head that maybe this was exactly why they called themselves the Inhumane Society. That was stupid, he thought. Their name was stupid. Their brutality was stupid. The fact that he'd allowed Stew Mitchum to get the drop on him was stupid.

But none of that mattered. What mattered was that he was hurt, and badly. His mouth was full of his own blood, hot and bitter, and his side hurt badly; his back was sore and so was his face and so was his arm. He knew he would have bruises to show for it. And that was just it, he was injured. They had gotten the drop on him, but it could have been so much worse. Was this part of the job? Was this what happened when you were a volunteer and you asked the wrong questions?

Maybe it was and maybe it wasn't, but Lemony did not examine the idea too closely. He was hurt, and he had never known what it was like to be hurt like this before. He carried himself slowly, wearily to the one place he knew he'd be safe, a part of him secretly afraid that Hangfire would change his mind and let Stew come after him to finish the job. He'd put on a very brave face back there, but he had been terrified inside.

It wasn't the fact that Hangfire had said they were measuring him for a coffin, although that was an eerie thing to hear. It was knowing just how very easy it would have been for Stew to kill him, if Hangfire had decided to let him. It was seeing that viciousness, bloodlust burning in the larger boy's dark eyes, and realizing just how much he wanted to do it. Nothing could have been more horrifying than that absolute sadism.

Hangfire's eyes hadn't looked like that when he'd tried to throw him out the window of the Colophon Clinic. Hangfire had seen Lemony as a threat, and so he sought to remove him, as coldly and as as simply as that. Stew_ wanted_ to kill him, just for the sake of doing it, of seeing how it felt to take a life, and Lemony knew he would not have been able to stop him. He had been helpless before a madman. He'd got off easy.

He pushed open the door of Hungry's and staggered inside. His friends looked up to greet him and instead blinked and gasped in horror as they saw him. He must have looked worse than he'd thought- maybe even worse than he felt. He couldn't have said. He could barely speak just then.

It's true it would have been easy for Stew to kill him, but he hadn't. Hangfire had planned all along to make the attack restrained, a warning, probably because he so enjoyed flaunting his power. After all, he had showed up in front of the Department of Education just to see if he'd be recognized. It made sense he would stop Stew just to show that he could, if he wanted. It had shaken Lemony, but not his resolve. And with his friends gathered around him, taking care of him, he felt strong again despite the terrible pain.

He couldn't let a person like Stew hurt anyone else. He couldn't let that happen to one of the people with him now, taking care of him, tending his injuries and giving him food. That was why he had to press on. No matter what that villain had intended, the important truth was that he was alive now, and still able to do something about all the dark and sinister things happening in Stain'd-by-the-Sea. That was how he could tell Hangfire he wouldn't quit, right to the mask where his face should be, and mean it.

Lemony knew that not quitting meant that next time, Hangfire would not stop Stew from doing exactly what he wanted. He didn't say that to his friends, though. That was his part of the fragmentary plan; there were some things he needed to keep to himself. He had told himself to get scared later and he meant it just as much as he'd meant it when he said he wouldn't quit. No matter how hard that was to bear all alone.


End file.
